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Published: April 23rd 2006
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Dubai and Muscat are like sisters. Dubai needs to be at the centre of attention at all times; she wears revealing clothing, lots of makeup, and chances are she'll be pregnant by the time she's 16. Muscat is the cooler, older, hippy sister; she is more modest, laid back and wears her beauty effortlessly...
I could feel the pace of life slow to a leisurely halt as the plane touched down in Muscat. Everything about travelling in a foreign land that was challenging and difficult washed away when I saw the familiar faces of Dave and Jana on the other side of the extremely lax airport security. I was immediately welcomed and embraced as a temporary resident of the expat ghetto of MQ; a place where live in maids and gardeners are the norm for school teachers. 2 days of luxurious relaxing, cocktail parties, sheesha smoking and adult contemporary conversations followed.
The expats of Oman live outside of the expected rules and norms of this traditional muslim country. They engage in late night drinking parties, wear revealing clothing and on occasion even use Sultan Qaboo's name in vein. The cheap, available labor and their high salaries mean that their
standard of living soars...
Oman is an absolute monarchy ruled by Sultan Qaboos, who took over from his father 30 years ago (in true coup de tat style), and turned this extremely traditional, goat herding country into the high tech wonderland that it is today. The last 30 years have been fuelled by oil money and cheap Indian labor and have been a frenzy of freeway construction, roundabout design and luxury mansion building. Schools were built, modern medicine was adopted and isolated communities were invested in. Oman did all this while remaining tax free. The result is a flourishing and wealthy Omani population who love and support their benevolent dictator...
A chorus of distant bleets could be heard in the distance as Dave, Jana and I walked apprehensively towards the famed Nizwa goat souq. Before me were hundreds of men screaming and yelling at other men who paraded goats around a large roundabout in the centre of the village. A sickly cow tied to a nearby pole mooed desperately, though this cow was clearly at the wrong souq. A little boy watched enviously as his father passionately bartered the price of a goat with one testicle missing. This
Oh how I love those Veggie Dogs
at our hike in camp site at Wadi Halfayn defect, the man argued, clearly made the goat worth less money. When the boy grows up he will teach his son the art of bartering, and the goat trading market will continue, just as it has for centuries.
We continued on to Jebel (mountain) Shab where a six hour hike threatened to destroy us. The views from the top of the rim resembled the Grand Canyon. We made it back to the wadi (dry river bed) and we set up camp for the night. A donkey rolled around in the sand nearby. Over the horizon an old man slowly walked towards our lone Land Rover. The man had not been particularly good at crafts as a child, but showed an affinity for goat herding. As such, his teachers put him into the 'goat herding' stream as apposed to the 'handy crafts for tourists' stream at the local mountain school. The days he spent as a goat herder were long and to widdle the time away the man would construct poorly made goat hair sandals and boondoggle key chains. He had not had a captive audience for days and so was excited for his chance to sell his latest creations.
The "Dave and Kris are Awsome" Fort
Overlooking a beautiful sunset at White Beach He approached us where we sat underneath a large christ thorn tree. The man presented his crafts one by one, but the quality of them could not justify a purchase. If the man had offered to sell me the sweet black and red old school Converse skate shoes that he was wearing, I might have been interested. To make amends, we offered the man a drink and sat watching the sun decline, drinking Pepsi...
As we laid on our cots watching the stars, I realized that the night brought a darker more sinister side to the playful donkey who had been rolling in the sand only hours before. The sound of at least 5 donkeys having wild orgies pierced the air and was augmented by the occasional desperate bleat of a goat who had gotten himself in over his head. A restless night followed and the hot morning sun came to soon.
A second hike along the inside of the canyon towards an abandoned village brought fantastic views and helped to erase the disturbing sounds of the night before from memory. My pasty white body burned in the dessert sun, and the past months without exercise and a
Aerial photo of moi
getting a terrible sunburn at the sink hole near Wadi Shab diet of beer, crisps and cornish pasties made me feel like an obese teenager at fat camp. The afternoon brought yet another hike, with camping gear, through Wadi Halfayn. In the shadows of rocky mountains, and in the presence of a watchful army of goats, we trekked on to a beautiful oasis where we drank goat water, cooked veggie dogs over an open fire and swam with froggies.
*thanks to Jana for the pictures
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Sarah
non-member comment
Hey white boy
Hey Kris glad your having fun, I really am in awe, those pictures are spectacular, the pictures explain it all!! simply amazing!!! the house is as always really quite without you and it was my 25th on 23rd Jim bought me a hamster!! he is called Asbo and actually screams like a baby if you go near him!!! I think throwing him out of the window to see if he flies may be entertaining!! As for you and Don, has he pulled more women then you hence your are no longer talking to him? anyway must go love ya a million Sarah x x x ps wheres our postcard whitey!!!